The Eldest Syvrak did not move like a creature of its size should. It moved like a thought of malice, sudden, jagged, and absolute.
Its jaws, lined with obsidian teeth the size of shortswords, unhinged with a wet, grinding sound that signaled the end of Eris's world.
Eris felt the heat of her own fire gathering in her palms, but it was a sluggish crawl compared to the lightning-strike of the beast.
For less than a second, the world slowed.
She saw the glint of ancient hunger in the creature's eyes, the silver rime on its scales, and the terrifying realization that she was simply too slow.
This was the end of the line. The inevitability of the maw was closing in, a dark, bone-crunching horizon.
Then, the air shifted.
A flash of steel and a roar of human effort tore through the periphery of her vision. A figure, blurred by desperation, threw itself into the path of the snapping jaws.
Caelen.
